These Vicious Games (Seattle Undeground)

Chapter 16

Past

My dad was a monstrous man. Had been as long as I could remember. My mom fucked off, leaving me behind. Not that I blamed her. She took one look at me and knew something was a little off.

Hell, I would have fucked off too.

My dad was a sick fucker.

He enjoyed the innocent. Of watching them. Hurting them. Making me hurt them. I refused, I never wanted to do… that with any of them. He would beat me within an inch of my life until I wasn’t able to argue. Until one day he beat all of the emotions out of me. Leaving me a weak shell of a boy. So numb I didn’t blink when another girl was presented.

But I knew how many I’d hurt. I carved a tally for each and everyone. Counting my sins and lying awake and hoping, praying to whomever to take me and lay fire to my skin.

But one day, everything changed. Dad found a woman he seemed to like. Like as much as he could. And once we moved in, it didn’t take me long to realize why.

She was small, a couple of years younger than me. And the way my dad looked at this woman's daughter, and watched her, made me sick inside.

He didn't look at her little brother that way.

I trembled with rage every time he smiled at her.

And I vowed then, there would be no more.

Present

Whoever picked out that dress was fucking fired.

No one should ever see that much of her skin unless it was me.

Constance walks out of the guest room in the penthouse. Tight black dress, curving to every inch of her tempting body. It wraps around her wide hips, love handles and snatched waist. The neckline plunges, hugging her breasts that seem to look as if they might fall out.

Her honey hued brown strands curl away from her face. A simple eyeliner on the top lids of her eyes, her lashes as black as my soul, making her silver eyes flash brighter, like a storm. Her lips are painted a sinister shade of red.

My eyes travel from her face, over the slope of her breast down the slit that slices all the way up above her pelvic bone.

My molars grind, no way she has anything under that. My innocent bird looks more like a fallen angel. Like we could somehow co-exist in the same realm. I know we can’t though. She’s not made for my world.

So why do I keep pushing her into it?

“What do you think?” She spins, giving me a three-sixty view.

The stylist comes out at the same time, handing me a bill. “You’re fired,” I hiss.

The man smiles, giving me a knowing wink as he says, “I’m not and you’re welcome.”

Sometimes, I wonder if people forget who the fuck I am. I know I’m not giving glowing vibes, so why test me?

I glower at the stylist, turning my glare back to Constance who smiles at me brightly. That smile is dangerous.

“Oh, wait.” She walks to me, her legs looking endless and I have to tighten my fist so I don’t reach out and snatch her, throw her over my shoulder and take her to my bed. Her hands rise to under my neck, my eyes boring into her.

“Why are you touching me, again?”

“Your bowtie was tilted.” She smiles again, silver eyes twinkling up at me.

I lightly push her back, pulling my sleeves down. “Think you can keep your hands off me?” I ask, glaring so hard into her eyes I hope she feels that glare for the rest of the night.

She shrugs a little shoulder. “Probably not.”

I sigh.

“Where are we going?” She asks.

“A birthday party.” I grumble. Grabbing my keys and walking to the elevator.

“Oh! I love birthday parties.”

I toss her another glare, pressing the button for the parking garage.

We make our way to my car. I don’t open her door, I’m not a gentleman, nor am I a liar.

Constance's eyes sparkle as she takes in the vintage art gallery Luca has bought out for his birthday. Thirty-two, but acts like a twenty-one-year-old that just discovered alcohol. It’s not even eleven and he already has his tie undone. I shake my head, guiding Constance to the lonely table of Andrea and Jameson. Not that I can blame anyone for not wanting to sit with the Don. He’s a scary fucker without the reputation. His eyes connect with mine, slowly sliding over to Constance and dragging down her body.

My hand tightens on her back, and I narrow my eyes at him. Andreas eyes dance as he looks back over to me, a smirk. Jameson looks between us, slightly shaking his head and taking a drink of his scotch. Something he does a lot of these days with the situation he’s been thrown into.

We arrive at the table, and I sigh looking over to Constance. “This is Constance my-”

“Prisoner.” She cuts me off, holding her hand out and batting her lashes at Andrea.

“Careful.” He shows his teeth. “I’m not someone you want to bat those pretty eyes at.”

“No?”

“No.” I snap, pulling her hand away from his before he can touch her. “Andrea and Jameson.” I point to the two.

“Nice to meet you both.” Constance smiles and I know first-hand what her smile can do to someone’s insides.

“Pretty Prisoner!” Luca comes up behind her, spinning her around to face him. “You have to dance with me.” He pulls her into his chest, hands falling to her waist.

I grind my molars, fighting the eternal battle of wanting to cut his hands off.

“Sit.” Andrea laughs. “What are your plans for her anyways?” He asks as I get seated next to him.

“My plan was to hunt her, kill her and see her insides.”

Jameson sputters, “Jesus Christ.”

“And now?”

“Ask me again in a month.” I snatch a drink off a passing server and down it.

All eyes are glued to my little bird. Watching with lust filled eyes as the underboss swings her around the dance floor, her head tilted back as she laughs.

“I’m afraid the women will set her on fire with their glares if she dances with Luca one more time.” Jameson notes.

“Good. Maybe then I can go home in peace.”

“If she’s such a problem you could always give her to Luca. He seems to like her well enough. Nice little birthday present,” Andrea adds.

Searing hot anger like I’ve never felt before simmers through my blood as I stand, throwing my drink back and walking towards them.

Constance’s eyes light with silver fire as she watches me. A tiny smile she hides in Luca’s shoulder. A song plays and Luca groans, “Fuck, Pretty Prisoner. I love country music every now and then. You?”

She goes to open her mouth, but I pull her away from him, dragging her to the outside balcony that overlooks the city.

“You know...” She begins.

I turn sharply, my hand pressed over her mouth as she rests against a pillar. Her eyes widen, breast heaving as she watches me. Her eyes glowing under the city lights. “Don’t speak.” Her eyes flick back and forth between mine. “When we go back in there, I want you to act like a good little prisoner and sit. Be seen, not heard.” She narrows her eyes. “Do you understand?”

I make her head move up and down and smirk. “Good.” I remove my hand.

She stomps off and satisfied, I head in, going to the open bar to order a drink. I spin, waiting and seeing an extremely pouty Bird sitting next to Jameson. Her arms crossed as she glares at me.

A hand on my arm makes me swing my eyes over. Almond eyes that sparkle with mischief. Long brown hair that’s silky and shiny. And a mouth I remember fondly. Been there and done that. “Misty,” I croon. “Get your hands off me if you want to keep them.”

She throws her head back, laughing throatily. “Come on, Atticus, we could have some fun.” She drags her nails down my suit.

I’m about to walk away when I catch silver eyes full of jealousy and anger watching me, watching Misty’s hand. I decided to play in. I grab Misty by her throat bringing her close, our lips closer as I whisper. “Last chance to get your dirty paws off of me before I cut them off and make you choke on them.”

Her eyes widen and I release her, smiling. I grab my drink, walking back to the table. Only something is missing. Someone is missing. “Where is Constance?” I ask.

Jameson shakes his head, taking a long drink. Andreas is all of a sudden busy on an important email, but Luca? He’s more than willing.

“Pretty Prisoner? She and some guy headed out while you were talking to the piranha.” He flinches, looking over to his brother. “Ow.” He grits.

Something inside me snaps. “Which way did they go?”

Luca points, “Woman’s bathroom. That way.”

Everything around me turns to white noise as I stomp across the room. It might be my reputation, or my fucking face, but everyone clears out of my way. Making a path for me to take the hall out of the grand room that I need.

I bet the hall is as breathtaking as the rest of the building, but I can’t see straight as I turn and push open the door, halting.

Constance sits on the vanity, her head thrown back as a man latches his disgusting mouth onto her throat. His hands up her skirt. A black haze washes over me as I silently walk over to them, my hand snatching my blade. I twist it between my fingers before stabbing him in the side of the neck. Constance's eyes go wide as the bastard coughs blood all over her chest, some getting on her face.

He falls at my feet, his hand slipping out from under her dress.

“Oh my god.” She whispers, looking down at the man before looking back up at me. “Why did you do that?”

“Why?” I whisper, stepping over the body and pushing her neck back to the mirror. “Why?” I hiss.

“He wasn’t doing anything wrong.” She gasps out.

“You always want to test me. Always trying to get a rise out of me. Do you know who the fuck I am? What I am? Hmm, Little Bird?” I bite her ear. “I’m the Beast of Seattle. The fixer. Everyone’s fucking boogie man,” I growl. “You want to play with me? Take on my brand of fucked? You got it baby.” I bite her cheek.

I release her, watching her gasp as I pull the man's hand up, cutting his hand off. Not an easy feat but practice and pure adrenaline fueled rage makes the process take less time than normal. I sit the hand next to her. Gripping the slit of her dress I rip it, bringing her pink pussy to the surface. “You wanted his fingers in your cunt?” I ask.

She shakes her head, “Atticus, no.”

I run his hand over her legs, my eyes never leaving hers. “Maybe you wanted his tongue in your mouth. Should I cut it out and have you choke on it as I fuck you with his fingers?”

A tear slips down her face as I push one of the corpse fingers in her. “Does it feel good, Little Bird? You like that, hmm?”

She glares through me. Disassociating from the situation. The blank look is the only thing that brings me out of my rage.

Fuck.

I throw the hand down, picking her up and throwing her numb body over my shoulder. She doesn’t fight or even say a word as I walk out, bumping into Andreas. He takes one look at me and then her. “I can assume my solider is dead?”

I bare my teeth at him. “You know not to let others touch what’s mine.”

He shrugs, “At least you’re finally claiming her.”

I glare at him, walking away. I leave my car there, too pissed to drive. I throw her into my driver’s backseat and slam the door.

I run my hands down my face, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it as I lean against the building.

Fuck.